


Ifs, Buts, & Maybes

by Ultra



Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Best Friends, Chases, Crossover, F/M, Fake Character Death, Family Feels, France (Country), Friendship/Love, Gen, Lies, Love, Non-Canon Relationship, Old Friends, Paris (City), Plans, Post-Canon, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Safe Haven, Secrets, Team, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Burke thinks he is about to become a legend for catching another of the world's greatest thieves, but Parker might just have an ulterior motive in letting herself get busted by the FBI. Her so-called capture is a good way to get Burke alone and let him know that Neal is not only alive and kicking, but that he may yet be in danger from the Pink Panthers all over again. Now, it's up to a group of old friends (from the White Collar division, Leverage Inc., and beyond) to ensure that Neal Caffrey doesn't have his life taken away for real this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [White Collar Big Bang](http://whitecollar-bb.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Awesome artwork by [Aragarna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna).

“We get this right, Jones, it’s the arrest of a lifetime,” said Peter with an excitement in his voice that his fellow agent hadn’t heard in quite a while.

It would be a hell of a big deal, Clinton knew it, but it also wasn’t likely to be easy. If it turned out to be too simple to catch this thief then something was definitely up. She sure did put him in mind of Caffrey and the very thought of that guy just hurt, even now.

A couple of years had passed since Neal's death and still it was painful every time his name was mentioned, each and every occasion that a reference was made that would remind his colleagues and friends of his absence. He had been such an integral part of the White Collar division, it would be impossible to forget him, even if they wanted to.

“Jones?” prompted Peter with a look. “You okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” he smiled then. “Just thinking.”

Peter nodded, understanding completely. Neal was on his mind too, on this job more than ever. It wasn’t as if he ever forgot the man who had somehow become his best friend for a while there. It was pretty insane as concepts went, that an FBI agent and a master criminal could come to mean so much to each other, but it had happened. Neal had been family as much as a friend and colleague, with the Burkes going so far as to name their son after their fallen brother. That was a while ago now, but days like today, it was almost as if he were here, watching over them all.

“Sir?” said a voice over the comms.

Peter looked down at the screen and nodded once. “Let's go!”

The FBI squad flew into action. What looked like the entire White Collar division flooded into and around the museum. It was almost too easy how they got a hold of her, and Peter ought to have realised sooner that was exactly what it was - just way too easy. Thieves like her didn’t get caught, that was kind of the point. He could say he was good enough to best her, as he had bested Neal, but Peter couldn’t help thinking that when the best in the business got caught it was usually because they were being put just exactly where they wanted to be.

Diana brought the blonde out in cuffs, declaring her unarmed as she handed a lock picking set to Peter.

“That’s all she had on her,” she told him. “No weapons, no I.D.s, nada.”

“Okay, put her in the van,” he nodded to his second, perusing the leather case in his hands.

It wasn’t so strange. All thieves of that kind had such tools, but it reminded him of Neal again and his heart lurched. Caffrey was gone and that was that. Sure, Peter had thought for a while that maybe it was all an elaborate ruse, before deciding even Neal couldn’t be that smart, not to fake his own death. Still the thought lingered in the back of Peter’s mind. It wouldn’t go away, not for almost two years. Peter wondered if it ever would.

It didn’t matter. On the off-chance that his theory was correct, if Neal really had faked his own murder and got away, there was no way to bring him back home, it would be far too dangerous. Better to assume that Neal was gone for good, mourn and move on. Peter kept trying to do that but he never quite managed it.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, moving over to the van where Diana had just now locked up the perp. “I just wanna have a little talk with our girl before we take her in,” he told his colleagues, hopping up into the back of the van and closing the door behind him.

Outside Jones and Berrigan shared a look but didn’t say a word. They knew Peter hadn’t been right since Caffrey died. They also knew that the way they caught this woman today was way too easy given her rep. Something was up, no doubt about that. They just didn’t know what it was yet.

Inside the van, Peter sat himself down opposite the blonde theif. She had her head back against the wall now, her eyes closed as if she were dozing off. His presence seemed to mean nothing to her, but Peter couldn’t care about that.

“Hello, Parker.”

“Agent Burke,” she replied, smiling even though her eyes remained shut. “Peter Robert James Burke. Son of Bill and Louise. Husband of Elizabeth. Father of Neal,” she recited by heart, opening her eyes to his shocked expression and loving it. “Date of birth, June twenty-second nineteen sixty nine. Social security number...”

“Did you...?” he began, reaching for his wallet. Peter could think of no other way for her to know so much. Perhaps he should have realised that if this was a scam, Parker would know equally as much about him as he did about her. Apparently, she knew even more.

“Rule number one - know your enemy,” said Parker then, her smile gone in an instant as she looked seriously at Peter. “Not that we’re enemies anymore. Gotta play on the same side for this one.”

She was a master thief. The idea of it was stuck in Peter’s head above all others. From the very start of this bust, she had been a constant reminder of Neal. Now here in this moment with Parker telling him they had to be on the same side, it was way too familiar. Criminals and agents working together against a common enemy, it had been done before but Peter thought those days were gone when they buried his last criminal advisor, his best friend.

“Neal is in trouble.”

Peter startled at those words, looking at Parker with eyebrows raised.

“Neal Caffrey?” he checked, unsurprised when she rolled her eyes at the question.

“Obviously. Who else would I be here for?”

She was serious, so very serious that it made Peter wonder. He had long suspected foul play. If anyone could pull the ultimate Houdini, it would be Neal, but he had seen the body and everything. Even the great Neal Caffrey wasn’t that good, and yet... Peter shook his head.

“Neal is dead, Parker,” he said gently, just in case it came as a shock.

Somehow it came as no surprise to see her smile.

“We both know that’s not true,” she said definitely, leaning in a little closer. “The Pink Panthers aren’t stupid either. Evil, maybe, but not stupid. They know, or at the very least, they suspect. That can’t be good, right?”

Thieves knew each other, masters of the art like Parker and Neal must have crossed paths. Few of their kind had loyalty to each other, but then there had long been rumours that she played for the good guys too these days. Maybe not quite so officially as Neal had, but that’s what Peter had heard. It made Parker’s latest illegal venture that much more strange, and her capture really had been too easy. Something was off about this whole sting from the beginning, and it was getting stranger by the minute as Peter listened to Parker talk.

“We can help, but it won’t be easy without you,” she told him. “Only you,” she confirmed, as his eyes flitted to the door beyond which his agent friends stood.

“I don’t...” said Peter, shaking his head.

He looked away, thinking of Neal, trying to decide if he was being played. His gut told him to believe Parker, but also made him consider bringing Jones and Berrigan in on this. There was barely a sound from the woman opposite him as Peter contemplated his next move, and yet when he turned to speak to her all of thirty seconds later, she was gone.

Peter’s eyes were wider than ever before as he quickly stood, turning left and right, looking to the floor and the roof for good measure. Parker was gone, as if she had never been present in the van in the first place. All that proved she had ever been there at all was a pair of open handcuffs on the bench where she had been sitting, and a simple card with an address typed on it.

“Paris?” whispered Peter as he picked up the card and read the location.

Right now, he really did not know what to think.

* * *

“You did good, girl,” said Hardison as he grabbed Parker’s hand and hauled her into the back of Lucille.

“She always does good.” Eliot grinned as his girlfriend came over to join him on the couch. “You okay, babe?” he asked as she dropped down next to him, his arm going automatically around her shoulders.

“Sure, yeah,” she said with a sigh, leaning into him. “But getting caught is not my favourite thing,” she complained.

“Your rep’s not going to get ruined,” he promised, kissing her hair. “You got away. We always do.”

They shared a smile bu the moment was short-lived as Hardison interrupted it.

“Yeah, when you’re done being cute,” he said, turning slightly in his swivel chair. “Burke has the card... and he’s pocketed it,” he told them, watching various camera feeds intently. “I dunno is he’s going to try and bring in the big guns on this one. Hell, I can’t say for sure he even believes us.”

“He’ll look into it,” said Eliot confidently. “FBI guys are curious. They can’t help it, it’s their job.”

Hardison nodded that the hitter was probably right, but they had no guarantees here. They were headed to Europe themselves in the hopes of assisting Neal when the Panthers caught up to him, but they couldn’t do it all alone. Burke had pull, back up, and more knowledge of the enemy than even Team Leverage could get. His name was important on this one.

When it came to the Panthers, Archie Leach was a source that Parker could tap, but he only knew information from the old days, when there was still some honour amongst the world’s greatest thieves. Things were very different now. All Eliot, Parker, and Hardison knew for sure was that they were not going to allow an old friend of the team be lost forever, or worse, really killed this time. They had to hope that Burke did the right thing, the way FBI agents were supposed to do, and that his help would be enough to save Neal Caffrey one more time.


	2. Chapter 2

“And this woman just... disappeared?” said Elizabeth, feeling confused. “From the back of a secure FBI transport vehicle? With you sat right there?”

It sounded ridiculous, completely impossible, and yet she didn’t doubt what her husband was telling her. Peter wasn’t all that big on embellishing when he talked about his job. Elizabeth trusted that what he said was exactly what happened. Of course, she probably shouldn’t be so surprised that a person could escape handcuffs, a secure van, and an actual senior FBI agent the way this Parker had. She was legendary, so much so that even Elizabeth herself had heard of her. Besides, they all knew a man previously who was just as gifted in the art of escapology.

“I wish I could explain it,” said Peter, sitting back heavily in the chair.

He rubbed his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on. Elizabeth didn’t doubt that he was feeling the pressure. Losing a suspect, a well-known criminal, no less, it didn’t look good. Of course, the fact they caught her in the first place, even for a few minutes, seemed pretty miraculous.

“Isn’t it a little suspicious though?” said Elizabeth then, musing on the facts of the case her husband just told her about. “I mean, she’s such an elusive person. Most people don’t even know what Parker looks like, and suddenly you have her caught in a regular old museum heist?” she considered, elbows on the table and chin rested on her hands. “It almost seems as if she wanted to be caught, but just to get away?”

Elizabeth frowned at the flawed logic of the case, and Peter tried not to look at her too closely. If their eyes met she would know there was much more to this than he was saying. Right now, Peter wasn’t sure he should share. He wanted to. He really wanted the advice of his beloved wife on the biggest decision he had made in a very long time, but telling her the truth could end up hurting her more than he was comfortable with.

El had come to love Neal, treating him like a family member more than a friend. Peter hadn’t liked it at first, but as time went on it was hard not to want to be a father figure or at least older brother to Caffrey. Certainly El was prone to mothering him at times, and openly flirting with Neal on other occasions. Peter got used to both sides of their relationship and ceased letting it bother him a long time ago. 

All that mattered was that Elizabeth loved Neal, equally as much as Peter had loved him, if not more. To give her the hope that he was still alive, or at least that he might be, it would be cruel if the information he had was wrong. One hand slipped into his pocket and Peter played with the card that lie there, the one left on the seat when Parker had vanished from sight.

“Honey?” said El, her hand on his arm.

He looked up and met her eyes, shaking his head. There was no way not to tell her what was going on. She looked so concerned, so confused. He had to confess everything and ask her advice, or Peter knew he would never figure out where to go from here.

Pulling his hand from his pocket, he put the card onto the table facing his wife. El frowned as she picked it up and read the address in Paris, France.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “This is where you think Parker is now?”

“No, this is where Parker said... It’s where she suggested that Neal is living.”

He made his confession and then waited for all the pieces to fall into place in Elizabeth’s head. It didn’t take long, and he hadn’t expected it to. She looked shocked at first, and then happy and sad at the same time. Her hand covered her mouth a moment, the other still holding on tight to the card as tears filled her eyes.

“El?”

“He’s alive?” she gasped out, almost laughing now. “Peter, Neal’s alive?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Honestly? I suspected before, but I couldn’t let myself believe it. Then when Parker said he was, that he was in France and needed my help...”

“He needs your help?” asked Elizabeth worriedly.

“Again, I don’t know for sure,” he told her. “Parker said so, but she’s... she’s just a criminal that I caught today... and lost today,” he recalled with a sigh of frustration.

He was so troubled by all of this and it wasn’t hard to know why. Elizabeth sat very still a moment, staring at the Paris address and thinking hard. Neal could be alive. The thought of it made her so happy, and yet the idea of getting her hopes up and finding out it was all a cruel trick, it would break her heart.

Neal never had a definite role in El’s life. Sometimes it was like having a protective brother, other times he was flirty as anything, and then there were the times when it was exactly like having an over-grown son. That was probably why it took no real effort at all to decide on a name for her baby. Neal was the obvious choice and Elizabeth couldn’t imagine ever naming her son anything else. She never once thought her child might meet his namesake. Now there was a chance and she could scarcely breathe thinking about it.

“Why?” she said so suddenly that Peter almost jumped in his seat.

“Why, what?” he checked.

“Why now? Why did Parker give you this card and tell you Neal was alive now?” she asked. “It’s been over a year. Did she only just find out where he was? Or did she think it was suddenly important that you knew?”

Peter sighed and reached for his wine, finishing off the glass in one gulp.

“She said he was in trouble, or that he might be soon,” he explained. “She said The Pink Panthers knew where he was and... and that Neal would need my help.”

If this was a scam then it was an incredibly well planned one, or so El thought. She believed Peter must be thinking the same. After all, this Parker person knew an awful lot about Neal’s situation. If she was inventing the whole story to get Peter to go to France, Elizabeth couldn’t think of a motive and said as much to her husband.

“I thought that too,” he considered. “But at the same time, maybe she’s working for the Panthers. Maybe she wanted to see if I fought her on her story, knowing that Neal was elsewhere? Maybe she wants to lure me to France to deal with me?”

Elizabeth flinched at the very thought of that. She hadn’t considered it at all, that Parker was working for the bad guys and that they were hoping to get some kind of revenge on Peter for his part in their downfall. She didn’t want to believe that. El was so invested in believing the story, in thinking that maybe Neal could have faked his own death and got away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Peter knowingly. “You want to believe he’s alive, and I do too, but-”

“But there could be other explanations. I know,” his wife agreed. “We need to be practical about this, look at all the facts. Do you have any reason at all to suspect that Neal could’ve faked his own death and escaped to France?”

Peter’s expression was unreadable as he got up from the table and headed upstairs as quietly as possible so as not to wake the baby. He returned moments later with a non-descript storage box in his hands that El was pretty sure had been in his closet. When the lid came off, she gasped at the contents.

“I may have been looking into this for a while,” Peter admitted, wondering if El would be mad at his secrecy.

As she leafed through the contents of the ‘Neal’ box, Peter was instead glad to see her smile.

* * *

“Monsieur Blanc,” the waiter greeted his best customer with a wide smile. “Your usual table?”

“Merci, Claude,” he replied. “Comment va ton famille? Eh bien, je l’espère?”

“Oui, monsieur. Un grand merci pour votre aide avec-”

“S’il vous plaît, ne pas le mentionner,” he said, waving away his overzealous thanks.

Pierre wasn’t one for high praise. He liked to live a quiet life, at least that was what anybody who knew him would say. They would also tell you that this man was half French and half English, having grown up all around the world because his parents travelled much when he was a child. Not one amongst the friends and acquaintances of Pierre Blanc would ever guess he was a well-practised liar, living a false life. Not a man, woman or child in the city of gay Paris would ever look at Pierre and think he might have another name. None knew he had ever been known as Neal Caffrey, and that was the way it had to stay.

He still felt like Neal on the inside. Though Pierre had lived quite happily in France for a year now, he still had not entirely adjusted to the lifestyle. He did a little work here and there, more for something to do than because he needed the money. Nothing illegal, that would be way too risky in the circumstances. Neal was forced to keep his nose clean in his new life and never cause a stir. If he drew attention to himself, he was done for, and yet, even as careful as he had been, Neal had a feeling things were not quite as they should be anymore.

These past few days, he got the impression he was being watched. You didn’t get to be a notorious thief without having a good awareness of your surroundings and of the people around you. Years spent with the FBI only helped him to hone his skills, and now Neal was sure somebody was keeping tabs. He wasn’t sure who. Could be anyone really, from The Pink Panthers to the cops, from Alex to James. Neal didn’t know for sure, but he felt the presence, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that it unnerved him a little.

Taking his usual table in the outdoor cafe, he unfolded his newspaper, tossed his hat onto the table and settled down to read. Claude brought his coffee to him with a polite smile, and Pierre nodded his thanks, before going back to scanning articles and understanding almost all of the words. His grasp of the French language was good enough to get by when he first came here. Now there were few words that caught him out, even in reading the paper. It was a shame, Neal thought, that just when he had adjusted so well to life in France, he might just have to up and leave. If somebody really had found him, somebody bad or dangerous, he would have no choice but to run. If not for himself then for those around him, his new neighbours, Claude who owned the cafe, acquaintances he had made around the area in which he lived and had come to call home. Not that it ever really felt like home, nothing else ever could, not since New York.

The table shifted ever so slightly as somebody joined him. Neal wasn’t all that surprised. He had friends here, and sometimes even strangers would come and sit in the opposite seat, beautiful female strangers that wanted to know him better. With the usual charming smile settled on his lips, Neal looked up from his paper. Shock took over his face in a second.

“Hello, Neal,” she said smoothly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Sara?”


	3. Chapter 3

Peter settled back in his seat and hoped sleep would come. He doubted he would be that lucky with his head as busy as it was. Honestly, there were reasons enough to believe he was a crazy person for even being on this plane, but Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just exactly where he needed to be.

Criminals did not get themselves caught on purpose. That was his first clear thought about this whole situation. Thieves like Parker were just too good, as she had proved when she evaporated from the back of the van, quite literally under Peter’s nose. She had to have a real important reason to do what she did. Saving the life of a friend would certainly count, if Parker and Neal were even friends. He never talked much about his criminal contacts, not outside of Mozzie anyway. Still, what little they knew of Parker suggested she was a loner, without any friends, until a certain team came along. Neal hadn’t had the chance to be part of Leverage Inc. and yet Peter felt like he had to believe that Parker was genuine.

Sure, it was possible this was all a ruse, and that could mean Peter was about to put himself in danger by heading to France. He had looked into the situation as best he could. All the members of the Panthers that he was aware of were still locked up, which struck him as both a good thing and a bad one. If they were all in jail, they couldn’t be going after Neal. On the other hand, that had to make this trip a wild goose chase.

Putting a hand to his head, Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stave off another wave of headache. He felt as if he had been suffering from some kind of Neal-induced hangover the past three days together, as he struggled with what to do for the best. In the end, it had been El that convinced him that nobody was going to rest easy until they knew the truth. He had to find out for sure what was going on, there was no other choice.

Kissing his wife and son goodbye, Peter had headed to the airport and caught the very next plane out. He called the office on the way and told them he was going to have to take last-minute leave for a family emergency. It wasn’t a total lie, and besides, telling the truth was just asking for trouble. Nobody else could know that Neal might be alive. Not Jones, not Diana, not even Mozzie. Of course, the little man might already know, but Peter wasn’t prepared to have that conversation for fear of giving anything away.

It was strange how Mozzie had become part of the family too. Never quite as much as Neal had been, but still. He liked to come visit with El and see little Neal too. Oddly enough, he made a pretty good baby-sitter when needs must. It was odd, but as he sat there thinking of Mozzie, Peter could have sworn he heard his voice.

Turning around in his seat, he peered back down the plane to where a man with a mop of fair hair and wire rimmed spectacles was getting frustrated with the nearest flight attendant.

“You call this complimentary wine?” he complained. “This swill is a compliment to no-one!”

Peter’s eyes went comically wide as he realised that the voice in his head was no imaginary figment. The hair was a wig and the glasses were different, but there was no mistaking the wine snobbery and condescending tone that went with it. Forced to wait a few minutes more, the moment the seatbelt sign blinked off, Peter was up from his chair and headed back down the aisle.

Not a word passed his lips as he reached Mozzie’s seat and hauled him up out of it by the lapel of his jacket. Though he opened his mouth to protest, the words died on Mozzie's tongue when he realised who had a hold of him. He recovered fast, Mozzie always did.

“Hey, watch the suit, Suit,” he said eventually with a smirk at his own joke.

Peter was in no way amused.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice.

Mozzie didn’t get a chance to answer before a woman with a child in tow said ‘excuse me’ and tried to squeeze by to the bathroom. The moment the guys recovered from that intrusion, the stewardess came through with her trolley of drinks and snacks, needing them to move again.

“Come with me,” said Peter, a demand not an offer as he pulled Mozzie with him.

There was a spare seat two over from Peter’s own and he politely asked the woman sat in between if she would like to take his window seat so he and his ‘friend’ could sit together. She smiled gratefully and moved over, replacing her headphones the minute she was settled. Peter pulled Mozzie down into the middle seat and took the aisle himself in an attempt to keep the little guy where he wanted him.

“Now you tell me, what the hell are you doing on this plane?” he asked crossly.

“What? I’m not allowed a vacation?” asked Mozzie, looking appropriately affronted. “Maybe I should ask you what you’re doing heading to Paris without the lovely Elizabeth and the adorable Neal? Planning to get a little loose in the city of love, Suit?”

“Okay, first, stop calling me that,” he snapped. “Usually, I don’t care so much, but right now I am civilian, just the same as you.”

“You’ll never be just the same as me,” Mozzie grumbled. “Anyway, Peter,” he over-emphasised. “I don’t think it’s breaking any particular laws for me to be taking a flight to France, and if you’re off the clock, then it’s even less of your business than usual.”

“Depends what, or whom, you’re headed over there to see,” he challenged him.

Mozzie could lie and he could do it very well, but Peter wondered at his bothering to do so. If they were both here for the same reason, and it would be a hell of a coincidence if they weren’t, then there was no reason to hide it from each other. They both wanted what was best for Neal. If he was alive and in trouble, probably the best way for them to help was to work together, as much as Peter would hate to admit such a thing.

“La Tour Eiffel, L’Arc d’Triomphe, and of course, Le Louvre,” said Mozzie with a smile - Peter stared him down until finally he broke. “And perhaps I might stumble upon an old friend,” he said, deliberately cryptic with his words.

“An old friend.” Peter nodded. “Safe to assume it’s the same old friend I might be looking up while I’m there?”

“Could be,” Mozzie confirmed.

Peter shook his head. “You knew all along he was alive.”

“Not true,” said Mozzie definitely. “I suspected, sure, but it was a good long while before I had it confirmed. Then a friend of a friend showed up three days ago, said there might be trouble,” he said, before beginning to hum a tune Peter recognised easily as the theme from The Pink Panther movies.

So they were both here for the same reason, and most likely had their information from the same source, namely Parker. Peter wasn’t sure if that made this situation better or worse. None of this was improving his headache.

“I don’t know what use I’ll be,” said Mozzie then. “But he’s my best friend, and... and I have to do something.”

Peter at least understood how he felt on that one. They had to do something, anything to help Neal out. It was hard to think who else would or could. It might just be them or no help at all.

* * *

“Sara?”

“Surprised to see me, Pierre?” she smirked wickedly, stealing a sip of his coffee. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d appreciate the tribute.”

Neal didn’t know what to say, even what to think. He was usually equipped to deal with any situation that came to light, second-guessing everything because in his previous line of work that had been more than necessary. He assumed that he may run across someone he knew at some point, but he had banked on it being the Panthers tracking him down, or maybe some other runaway that wanted to keep a low profile just as much as he did himself. Perhaps the very last person he had expected was her, his beautiful Sara.

“I... I’m amazed,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Happy, but amazed,” he said, smiling then. “What are you doing here?”

Shifting in her seat, Sara sat forward, putting her hand on his and leaning in very close. It looked all kinds of intimate, and it wasn’t as if they shouldn’t be so close given their history, but both Sara and Neal knew she was ensuring any and all secrets they shared stayed just that.

“I know people who know people,” she all but whispered with a smile. “When Peter called and said... well, that the worst had happened, I refused to believe it. Not you, you were way too smart for that. I had no idea where you would be or how you did it, but... but I knew you were still out there somewhere,” she said, staring fondly into his face. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he promised, picking her hand up off the table and kissing it tenderly. “You have no idea how much.”

“I think I do,” she nodded, knowing her longing for Neal had to equal or even surpass his for her. “I knew it was the right thing to go to London, but without you, I don’t know, life just wasn’t half so interesting,” she smiled, recalling adventures past.

Neal remembered them fondly too. He had no really bad memories that included Sara, except the bittersweet recollection of sending her off into the world to fulfil her dreams without him. Now here she was, goodness only knew how, but it was true. Sara must have seen the question in his eyes, because she explained how she had come to find him in the very next breath.

“I have a friend in the insurance business. Well, he used to be in insurance. After that, he formed a team of thieves and took on all the corporations and other assorted bad guys that the authorities couldn’t or wouldn’t touch,” she explained.

Neal’s eyes widened at her words, giving him away in a second. He could usually hide his tells pretty well, but he had no reason to try with Sara.

“Nathan Ford?” he checked, watching Sara nod her head.

“Between us, we figured I was the best person to come and let you know the plan,” she explained then.

Quickly checking nobody was paying any attention to them, Sara leaned in ever closer, planted a lingering kiss on Neal’s cheek and then whispering in his ear. She spoke of the Leverage team, of which Neal knew two members exceptionally well. She mentioned the Pink Panthers and all that they thought they knew. Then she told Neal that they had recruited Peter to the cause too.

“You don’t have to worry,” she finished, pulling back some to meet his eyes. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Ca- campadre,” she amended fast, almost laughing at her own stupid slip of the tongue.

“Thank you, amigo,” he responded in equally silly fashion on purpose and they both laughed.

Neal was serious again in a second, gripping Sara’s hand almost too tightly.

“Seriously, Sara. Thank you,” he told her again. “But I don’t like so many people putting themselves in harm’s way for me. I left so that you would all be safe.”

“We know what we’re doing,” she promised him. “Well, your friends seem to anyway, and I’m willing to trust them.”

“You’re not my friend?” he checked, lips quirking into a smirk that she loved and hated at the same time and always had.

“I think you and I both know, it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s the simplest thing there is.”

The look that passed between them was unmistakable. Despite all that was potentially going to happen, or maybe because of it, Neal and Sara did not want to spend today worrying about what had been, might be, could be. They were here together, and they had missed each other so much.

Without a word, he laid down the money for his coffee, rose from the table and held out his hand to her again. Sara took it without hesitation, stood up and followed him wherever he wanted to go.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn't have a hotel booked when they arrived. Both Peter and Mozzie had each left New York in such a hurry to head to Paris that the booking of rooms just had not been thought of. Last minutes flights landed them at the airport with nowhere to go but the address they had for Neal, and there was no telling what they might find there. Maybe their friend, maybe someone else entirely, maybe a situation that required careful handling.

“We should have a plan before we head over there,” said Mozzie sagely. “How about we stop off at that charming cafe there? Take a breath, make a plan?”

Peter was not without suspicion of the little guy's sudden need to stop for a drink and come up with a strategy. It didn't sound like him at all, but quite honestly, a good cup of coffee might just settle Peter’s nerves. Besides, Mozzie did have a point about them making a plan. So far, he had no clue how to handle this himself.

“Fine,” he snapped, leaning forward to the taxi driver and asking him, in broken French, to pull over at the cafe up ahead.

With the cab driver duly thanked and paid, Peter and Mozzie headed towards the bar area at the cafe, only for a man to appear with a huge grin on his face, arms open wide to Peter.

“Monsieur Pierre!” he greeted him happily, kissing both his cheeks.

Mozzie bit back a smirk as Peter visibly squirmed. He clearly had no clue how this guy knew his name. A glance at the waiter's name tag proved the overzealous, overfamiliar French man was named Claude.

“Est un plaisir de vous revoir ici!” he enthused.

“What did he say?” Peter asked Mozzie.

“He says it's a pleasure to have you back here again,” he translated easily. “I guess it’s just a case of mistaken identity,” he said thoughtfully, shrugging his shoulders. “But hey, may as well use that to our advantage. Monsieur? Votre meilleure table pour moi et l'honorable Pierre, sil vous plait?”

“Oui, oui, Monsieur. Seul le meilleur pour vous.”

Claude ushered the pair to a table in a pleasant, sunny spot and then hurried off to fetch food and drink, it seemed.

“This is very, very strange,” said Peter, squirming still as Claude moved away.

“Hey, we're probably going to get free coffee and pastries,” said Mozzie happily. “I say go with it.”

Somehow Peter got the feeling that there was more to this than he was fully understanding, but in the circumstances, it was probably safer just to stay put. If he was being played, it had to be better for all concerned, and most especially Peter, if he keep Mozzie close where he could see what he was up to.

* * *

“Did I mention the part where I missed you?” Neal murmured into Sara’s hair.

“I think you’ve made your feelings pretty clear,” she smiled, pillowing her head on his chest.

They had barely made it to the hotel room, never mind the bed, before passion overtook them. It had been too long, way too long. With so much time to make up for and so many feelings still existing between them, they both knew things were only ever going to go in one direction today, and neither was disappointed by the result.

This was not the hotel where Sara was staying, nor one that Neal had used before. He had an apartment, he just had reservations about taking Sara there. If he was being watched, as he suspected, as his friends clearly suspected too, then the last thing Neal wanted was for Sara to become a target. He meant what he said about not liking the idea of her being involved in anything dangerous. She mattered so much to him, more than any other woman ever had. The only one that came a very close second had been Kate, and the memory of what happened to her only made Neal fear for Sara all the more.

“Hey,” she said then, picking her head up from his chest to meet his eyes. “Where’d the happy face go?”

Neal slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I just keep thinking...”

“Well, stop thinking,” she told him definitely. “I told you, everything is under control. We don’t have to be ready for another couple of hours.”

“Ready for what?” he asked, though it was tough to concentrate on a reasonable train of thought when she moved her body on top of his own and made her intentions very plain. “Sara...”

“Neal, do you trust me?” she asked him seriously.

Looking her right in the eyes, it took no effort at all to tell her the absolute truth, something largely uncommon to Neal Caffrey.

“With my life,” he confessed, knowing that was exactly what he was doing right now.

The smile that lit up Sara’s face, followed by the kiss that took his breath away, told Neal he was making the right choice putting his faith in her. Whatever the plan was, wherever he ended up, he wasn't going to regret today. That much Neal knew for certain, even if it did prove to be the only thing he knew right now.

* * *

“So, this other guy has been watching Neal the whole time, but he’s not the assassin?” asked Parker with a frown. “I still don’t get it. Why would you have somebody else watching your target? That sounds unprofessional.”

“It’s not usual protocol,” said Eliot in a low voice, hoping his girlfriend would take the hint and be a little quieter herself. “But sometimes, well, nobody can be in two places at once. Not even you’re that good, sweetheart,” he reminded her, kissing her cheek.

They looked like any other normal couple in love on the streets of a town that seemed to be designed for such people. Certainly the 'in love' part was true enough, but Eliot and Parker were in no way what anybody would describe as normal. A hitter and a thief who had learnt to play for the good guys. Eliot knew about being an assassin because that was his job once. He regretted so many decisions of his past, but he was certainly repenting every day of his present and future, for so many reasons and in so many ways.

Today he and Parker were here in Paris on a particularly awkward mission. They were not trying to save the life of some nameless, faceless client that could be forgotten just as soon as the next job came along. This whole set up was to protect one of their own, Eliot’s friend from so many years ago, a guy Parker had known as a teen. It was almost funny that Eliot and Parker had never stumbled upon each other until Nathan Ford and a little thing they called Leverage Inc. came into their lives.

Eliot shook his head, knowing now was not the time for reminiscing. He and Parker were on a bench across the street from a cafe, watching FBI Agent Peter Burke, and their buddy Mozzie sit across a table from each other, sipping coffee. Claude had greeted them with enthusiasm, particularly Peter. That was all part of the plan.

“Hey guys,” said Hardison in both their ears then, the comms working just as well as always. “I picked up the signal from Sara’s phone. They’re at the Hotel Crayon, a couple of streets away.”

“Probably just about as far as they could get,” said Eliot with a smirk that his friend could just hear.

“Thanks, man. Thanks a lot for reminding me that I’m the single dude in the city of love, again!” 

“Damnit, Hardison!” growled Eliot then. “Just keep watchin’ the signal, make sure they don’t leave the hotel. Not that I expect 'em to, but still.” He turned his attention to Parker then. “You're up, babe.”

She grinned wide and leaned over to kiss his lips. The next second, she was gone. Eliot hated to see her go and yet loved to watch her leave. He was still smirking over that particular thought as he looked back over at the cafe to check on Burke and Mozzie. Any time now and the little guy would make his excuses and slip off to the bathroom. Eliot just had to make sure that Burke stayed put for a while longer, trusting that Mozzie hadn't gone AWOL until he was a good long ways away. The other issue was ensuring that Peter Burke didn’t get hurt.

The assassin was due today, the one employed to take Caffrey out, should the rumours of his death prove to have been greatly exaggerated. The intel was supposed to prove faulty, that was the point of bringing Burke here. If he was seen to be Pierre Blanc, not Neal, as was suspected, there would be no point in the hired gun taking his shot. Still, Eliot couldn’t be certain it would be that easy. That was why he was keeping an eye on things.

“C’mon, man,” he muttered to himself as if talking to the gunman he was waiting on. “There’s only two clear shots on this guy...”

“Not if you’re an expert,” said a voice behind him.

The hitter flinched. There were very few people who could creep up on Eliot Spencer, and fewer still who were allowed to live to tell the tale. This guy was one of that very few.

“It's been a while, man,” he said, turning around in his seat and lifting his sunglasses up to the top of his head to meet the new arrival’s eyes.

“Too long,” said Jonah Quinn with a smirk. “We must’ve had the same idea when it came to saving my cousin’s ass.”

“You were hired for the job,” said Eliot, a statement not a question because the pieces were just now slotting into place. “You made sure you got it because you were the only one who wouldn’t follow through, no matter what. Well, you sure risked a lot for Neal.”

“Even guys like us draw a line somewhere.” Quinn shrugged. “Blood isn’t always thicker than water, but me and Neal...” he shook his head.

“I know,” Eliot nodded, understanding completely.

Honestly, it was a relief to have been played by his old friend/enemy. It meant no harm was going to come to either Burke or Neal, at least not today. Still, people had eyes on the situation and a yen to see Neal dead for real. The mission still mattered. The plan could not be reversed.

“No, Hardison,” said Eliot into his ear when the hacker asked if he should stand down. “Keep driving. Go get those two and get 'em outta here, just like we planned.”

Quinn was wearing a quizzical expression as he sat down beside Eliot then. His fellow hitter didn’t wonder at it.

“Don’t worry, he’s going to a better place,” he smiled. “And I don’t mean with wings and a halo.”

A real genuine laugh escaped Quinn’s throat at the particular imagery those words conjured. His cousin as an angel from above? Not a chance.

* * *

Neal hadn’t been all that surprised when Parker picked the lock to the hotel room, walking in with her buddy Hardison on her heels mere minutes after he and Sara got out of the shower together.

“Somebody been gettin’ all kinds of reacquainted,” Hardison said, with a filthy expression.

“Actually I think they’ve probably been having sex,” said Parker, rolling her eyes. “But no time for any more of that right now. We have to go,” she insisted, hurrying Neal and Sara to get dressed.

As they did so, Parker explained they were headed for the airport. Hardison had paperwork for Neal in both his latest name and the one he was most known by. Where he was going, it would be possible to be Neal Caffrey again, though he had no idea how until Parker explained.

“Archie,” she smiled widely.

“Archie Leach?” he checked, tying his tie at record speed. “Your old mentor?”

“He was a Pink Panther once,” said Parker proudly. “Back when they were actually decent people and everything. Morals and codes, that whole thing,” she explained with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, even after all this time, he has a little pull. Turns out that there’s a whole part of England that’s considered his turf by this and any future incarnations of the Panthers,” she explained.

“England?” he echoed, looking at Sara.

She could only nod and smile in such a moment of high emotion. Neal wasn’t just back in her life for a few hours or a day, this was a permanent arrangement, if they both wanted it to be.

Neal barely got a chance to think on it before Parker was hurrying them all from the room. They snagged a service elevator that was always going to be ready for them since Hardison was controlling it via his phone. Down to the basement, all four rushed out, Neal and Sara following Parker and Hardison, towards a black van in the corner nearest the exit, the engine already running.

“Eliot?” Neal guessed the identity of the driver.

“Nope,” Parker shook her head. “He’s covering a different part of the plan.”

Getting closer to the vehicle, Neal’s eyes went comically wide at the sight of another of his closest friends.

“Mozz,” he greeted him with the biggest smile. “Man, I’m sorry, I...”

“It’s fine,” he promised him through the open window. “It’s good to see you, Neal.”

“All those up for the reunion, in the back of the van,” said Hardison then. “We gotta make tracks people.”

Mozzie hopped out of the driver’s door, wasting no time in hugging Neal tightly. It was unmanly to cry, especially in front of women, but both of them came very close to tears at that moment. To be reunited with such a dear friend after way too long, especially given the nature of Neal's 'death', it was almost too much. Still, the reunion was due to be brief, since Neal already knew there was no way Mozzie was going to move to England to live the quiet life. It was never his style, never Neal’s either really, but he had made his choice the day he faked his endings, and he wouldn’t push that on anybody else.

“I can’t believe you all came here like this, for me,” he said in apparent wonderment as he hopped into the back of the van with Sara, Parker, and Mozzie.

The reunion wasn't quite complete without Peter, and yet Neal hadn't really expected him to be part of such a plan. The others knew that he had been, that he still was yet, but they would not put that kind of pain on Neal. Knowing his other best friend was in Paris and yet unreachable in such a moment, it would be cruel. Afterwards, Sara would break the news, when she and Neal were far away and completely safe.

Hardison told everybody to hold on tight and turned sharply out of the parking lot, up the ramp into daylight. He was going to have to keep to the speed limit from here on out, since getting pulled over now would not end well, but they had an airport to get to, and the plane wouldn’t wait.


	5. Chapter 5

“Last call for flight 175 to London, England.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, we have to go,” said Peter, ushering Elizabeth along.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I didn’t know Neal was going to have a little accident right when we needed to be ready,” she told her husband what he already knew.

Elizabeth's free hand was shaking as she put it into Peter's own. This was a big deal. In a few hours they would be in a whole other country, a place neither of them had ever been before, but to see a person they knew very well.

It was six months ago now that Peter last left the country. That day he had caught a plane to Paris in search of the supposedly deceased Neal Caffrey. Though he had not seen him face to face or even talked to him on that particular trip, Mozzie assured him that he had helped a lot. He was the decoy, the bait in effect, and that didn’t thrill Peter at all, at least, not until he found out the crucial role he played.

Now Neal was safe in a place where the Panthers could not or would nt try to hurt him. He was protected, and so were the people who loved him. Under the guise of a very old deal, Archie Leach’s sway with the elite band of thieves meant they could not go after Neal in any way without causing more serious problems for themselves. If Leach decided to leak the secrets he knew from his time with the Panthers, the consequences could be far reaching and catastrophic for so many thieves around the world. It wasn’t worth it, not even to the vengeful Panthers. The chances of any of them realising Neal was actually still alive and even looking for him in England were slim, and there would be no point in trying to track him down given the safe zone he now resided in.

“He will be pleased to see us, won’t he?” asked El as she and Peter headed for the plane.

“He asked us to come visit, honey,” her husband reminded her, squeezing her hand. “They both want to see us, and they want to meet Neal,” he smiled at his son who was sat at Elizabeth’s hip, looking in wonderment at all the sights and sounds of the airport. “See that, son?” Peter pointed beyond the doors they were headed for. “That’s the plane that’s going to take us to meet Uncle Neal.”

“Uncle?” echoed Elizabeth with a look of surprise.

Peter realised he had been caught out in a moment of sweet sentiment and quickly tried to change the subject, talking to little Neal about the size of the engines on the plane, something a child of two cared nothing about anyway. Elizabeth just smiled and stayed quiet. She was way too happy right now to be starting a fight.

* * *

They were not at the airport to greet their guests on arrival. As safe as they felt much of the time, Neal and Sara were still wary, especially given her current condition. Instead, they waited by the window of their home until the taxi turned into the top of the road, then Neal smiled.

“You’ve really missed him, haven’t you?” said Sara, leaning into his side.

“Both of them, actually,” he told her, though his eyes were fixed on the view beyond the glass still.

A moment later they were hurrying to the front door and heading out to welcome their friends, though to Neal, and even Sara now, they were more like family.

Peter let El go first. She rushed at Neal with tears in her eyes, hugging him so much that he could hardly breathe, and yet he didn’t care at all. He was just so happy to see her again, and hugged her back so tightly that her feet literally came off the ground.

“It is so great to see you,” she enthused, stepping back at last to look at him. “And you look exactly the same,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “How is that possible?”

“Good and honest living?” Neal joked, at which El laughed even as she continued to cry.

She moved on to Sara then, hugging her around her pregnancy bump. Perhaps El would have begun to berate Neal then for not telling them that Sara was so far along, but he wouldn’t have been listening. His eyes were fixed on Peter as he stepped around the car, holding onto the hand of a small boy.

The kid was cute as a button, the perfect combination of his parents, and yet apparently a little shy of the strange place and people he had never met before. Neal stared down at the boy who looked exactly like all the pictures El had sent over, and yet somehow different too, because at last they were face to face.

“Neal,” said Peter to his son. “This is the man you were named after. Say hello to Uncle Neal,” he urged the little boy, who waved a hand before shoving all of his fingers into his mouth.

Getting down to the child’s height, ‘Uncle’ Neal marvelled at the sight of the boy. He smiled widely at him and opened his arms.

“Hey, little man,” he greeted him. “You got a hug for me?”

Little Neal looked uncertain and glanced up at Daddy for approval.

“Go ahead, son,” he prompted, urging him on.

Baby Burke toddled forward then and into Neal’s arms for a hug. It was quite a moment, the child meeting his namesake who had been thought dead far too long. Sara choked out a sob and then laughed at herself.

“Damn pregnancy hormones,” she muttered.

“I wish I had an excuse like that,” said Elizabeth, wiping under both eyes with her hands.

“I have tissues inside, and wine for those that are allowed it,” said Sara then, gesturing towards the open front door.

“C’mon, sweetie,” Elizabeth called to the little boy, who gave Neal a smile before going with his mother.

It was a deliberate move from the women to leave Neal and Peter alone. They were best friends, practically brothers, and it had been far too long since they had been stood in the same place at the same time. There was so much to say and yet for the first full minute, neither said a word. Eventually, it was Peter who cracked.

“The last time I saw you was in a hospital,” he said in a low but almost emotionless voice. “You had a bullet wound in your chest and a body bag zipped up around you.”

“Peter...”

“No,” he cut in the moment Neal tried to interrupt. “I don’t want an apology or an explanation. I understand why you had to do it. I actually respect you for it. You wanted to protect not only your own life but the lives of everybody around you, including me and El. I can’t deny, it hurt to know you were gone, more than I ever expected. Finding out from Parker that you might still be alive...” Peter paused to shake his head, not knowing how to go on, in spite of practising all he had to say to Neal multiple times before this trip ever happened. “It’s beyond good to see you, Neal. To know that you’re not only alive but safe and happy,” he said eventually, smiling by the end.

“Thank you, Peter,” said Neal, returning that smile even as tears welled up in his eyes. “For what it’s worth, I wanted to tell you. I wanted you and El to know I was okay but... I couldn’t risk it. Especially with the baby on the way, it would’ve been too dangerous back then,” he explained what Peter must already have figured out, and then he smiled. “I still can’t believe you named him after me.”

“Me either,” Peter joked.

It seemed like the next natural step to hug each other. Though neither man was exactly the type for such a gesture, particularly Peter, it was the only way to express what they were feeling, the relief and joy combined at being reunited after too long. They may not be blood, but they were brothers, family, always.

They parted moments later, both trying to shake off the special moment as if it were nothing at all. Peter had a terrible urge to talk baseball, and Neal just knew it somehow.

“How ‘bout them Yankees?” he said with a wicked smirk, making Peter laugh.

“Shouldn’t we be talking about Chelsea or Manchester United?” he asked in reply, a terrible faux-English accent falling from his lips that made Neal wince.

“Oh, we have to work on that!” he said definitely, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulders as they headed on into the house.


End file.
